Sitting in damp clothes, huddled under tarpaulin as rain drips on to a forest floor carpeted in pine needles, I am in tears in front of four women who, three days ago, were strangers.
Perhaps it’s sleep deprivation, but this flood of feeling catches me by surprise. These are not tears of grief, this is something else.
Let me take you back to the beginning. It’s Saturday at noon, and I’m at Totnes Station Platform Two, clutching two plastic bags carrying clothes, sleeping bag and a one-litre water bottle. Outside the station I locate Henriette, the elfin Danish woman who leads Wandering Wild, a three-day silent hike into the wilds of Dartmoor. Henriette has told me exactly what to pack and how to transport it and greets me warmly before handing me a backpack, which contains my tent, sleeping mat, food and cooking pot.
I duly attempt to squish my belongings into the remaining space while chatting to the other walkers – a mother and daughter from Kent, and a keen nature-lover from
